Fastred's Journey
by IndustrialSoup
Summary: The Dragonborn is selfish and only kind when money is concerned, until she meets Fastred, a scared and alone girl, lost in Much to the Dragonborn's own surprise, she offers to help her for free - does she really does possess a shred of humanity?
1. Chapter 1

The Dragonborn was a very odd person. The name was known throughout Skyrim, and, upon hearing that the Dragonborn was entering the city, children would rush from their homes to catch a glimpse of the dragon slayer. According to the stories that raced through Skyrim, she wore the bones of Alduin himself for her armour and weapons. The helmet was neglected in favour of a very strange looking crown that seemed to glow a sky blue from its gold frame. Her sword hit against her bone armour, sounding her arrival through the city streets. Should one take a closer look, they might see her fingers flex as she subconsciously prepared herself to grab her sword and lunge into another dragon attack.

These qualities were no different from any other mercenary or sellsword that toured Skyrim. To put it bluntly, the Dragonborn was nothing special. In fact, she was a disappointment. She was able to harness such power as to take down the King of Dragons, and yet she showed none of this might and strength and merely huddled in the corner of the local inn drinking wine before bed. And with that dog she had trailing after her that she'd picked up at that dead shack, she constantly reeked of wet fur. Needless to say, when children approached the Dragonborn, they took a step back in disgust.

If the Dragonborn took offence to this, she showed no sign. In fact, she had never once showed sign of emotion at all, so far as anyone could tell. Her eyes were black with fatigue, highlighting the paleness of her skin. Her armour and sword was almost always covered in blood and her dark blue eyes always had the look of an eagle about to attack a mouse.

The dog was quite different, though. Nobody knew its name, as the Dragonborn only referred to the poor thing as 'dog'. Apparently, she had found it moping beside its dead owner. That was probably why it looked so scruffy. If the Dragonborn and her follower were seen outside city walls, this dog would look as evil as the woman herself, willing to sacrifice its own life for the Dragonborn's. However, inside the city walls, the dog would toy with cooked beef, bark with a wagging tail and snore beside a warm fire.

The Dragonborn, it was said, was someone who only accepted a job on the quality of the pay. A child had apparently been taken hostage, and the Dragonborn had bartered for better pay before taking the job. Once, a thief had run around a small town and the Dragonborn, who happened to be passing through, had killed him with a single arrow to his heart. The people of this town were most grateful, until they saw the woman take everything the thief had been able to carry and hadn't even offered any of it back to its rightful owner. 'Payment', she probably considered it to be.

But there came a day when the Dragonborn surprised the people of Markarth. Everybody knew the Dragonborn owned Vlindrel Hall, with her housecarl keeping it tidy for her return. After the Cidhna Mine incident, citizens kept their distance from her and silently wished for her to return home as little as possible. They kept out of her way, and only conversed with her if she approached them first.

So when a group of children ran up to the Dragonborn and asked if she wanted to play tag with them, a few onlookers began to grow cautious and wary. A man nearly let out a burst of laughter as the image of the fierce dragon slayer playing with children was too ridiculous to bear. The Dragonborn refused, instead giving them a gold coin each for a sweet roll. She went to move out of their way until she noticed a meek little girl shuffling behind them.

The other two children laughed as they ran off to the market to spend their new coins. As the lost girl shuffled after them, the Dragonborn suddenly grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

Those staring at this unravelling scene gasped in shock, unsure if they should intervene. The Dragonborn could conjure a terrible force in her hand and kill this child in an instant. Nobody knew what to do. They were in too much shock and could only look upon the scene helplessly. The Dragonborn bent down to the child's height and their eyes met: pure, innocent eyes meeting cold, aged eyes that had seen many horrors.

The woman spoke quietly and it was only due to the child's slightly louder voice that those close enough could hear what was being said.

'I... I don't want to talk...' The little girl had said, looking away from the woman.

'Well, if you don't want to hear about the dragons...'

The little girl's head shot up at this, her eyes full of wonder and curiosity. 'Dragons? They're _real_?'

A small smile, one that couldn't exactly count as happiness and most probably forced, came upon the Dragonborn's lips. 'Where are your parents?'

The girl's head lowered again and she shuffled her feet once more, which had probably indicted to the Dragonborn that something had been wrong. 'I... I don't think they'll be coming back.'

'Why is that?'

'Mama died when I was a baby,' the little girl said, a lump rising to her throat as she recalled the events that had turned her life. 'And papa... he... when the Forsworn escaped from Cidhna Mine...'

The Dragonborn's expression suddenly grew dark, and had the little girl seen this, she would have probably taken a step back in horror as many of the onlookers did.

But the Dragonborn's expression wasn't an evil threat. There had been rumours and doubts that she had been involved in the Cidhna Mine incident, although she had been quite careful to keep her head down and to leave the situation as fast as she could. People had caught a glimpse of her and had spread the word that she had been involved, but nobody could be sure.

'And you have no other family here?'

The little girl looked up at the woman in horror, suddenly desperate to remove herself from her grip which she still hadn't released. 'Oh please miss, don't take me to that terrible orphanage! I couldn't stand it in there! I'm doing quite well, selling firewood and other things that I find and the stones aren't that bad to sleep on. _Please_ -!'

Had the Dragonborn let go of her before, the little girl would have probably made a run for it. But as her gloved hand was still around her small arm, she could make no such move. She was at the Dragonborn's mercy.

'Would you like to come and live with me?'

The child was stunned. Nobody could believe their ears; the little girl certainly couldn't. The thought of living with the Dragonborn... the whole house probably stunk of dog and blood, and who knew what terrible artefacts she collected.

The surprise on the little girl's face with her glistening eyes was enough to convince the Dragonborn that she could stand up and the child wouldn't make a run for it. The Dragonborn turned to leave Markarth, and the little girl had nothing else to do but follow meekly, shock holding her excitement down. As they were leaving through the city gates, even the guards were staring after them as the Dragonborn lifted the girl onto her demon horse and pulled its reigns, leading it around the corner and out of sight.

'What is your name?' The Dragonborn inquired, keeping her eyes fixed before her, quickly looking from the road to her sides in case of attack.

'My name is Runa,' the girl replied. 'Can I call you mama?'

With the Dragonborn slightly in front of Runa, she was unable to see her cringe slightly. 'Sure.'

'What's your dog called?'

'Meeko.'

Meeko barked as if on cue, knowing that he was being discussed. Why the Dragonborn preferred to call him 'dog' instead of his real name was odd.

'Where are we going?' Runa asked. 'Why aren't we staying in Markarth? I heard you had a house in Markarth.'

There were so many questions. The Dragonborn looked up to the sky to tell the time, grateful that it was becoming late. Perhaps the child would sleep on the way and she could continue through the night in silence.

'Markarth is no place for a child,' the woman replied. 'I only have a house there due to convenience. How would you feel about living in Solitude?'

Runa was surprised. Out of all the cities she could have picked, Solitude was by far the best. She had heard so many stories of the dazzling Blue Palace, the immense talent that beamed from the Bard's College and the haunting horror stories of the mad ghosts.

'Thank you...' Was all Runa could say.

'My husband lives in Proudspire Manor,' the Dragonborn explained. As she spoke, she reached back into a bag hanging from her horse's saddle and pulled out half a sweet roll wrapped in parchment. She gave it to Runa, hoping she would be too busy eating to speak. 'My housecarl has her quarters in the basement. You will have your own room and I will arrange for you to have a tutor -'

The Dragonborn looked around to see if Runa was paying attention, as she had been a little too silent. She was leaning forward against Shadowmere, using his neck to balance her as she slept. The sweet roll she had only taken a few bites of lay abandoned on the road behind them, giving dinner to a mountain fox. At least there was silence.

The Dragonborn was looking forward to seeing her husband. Their marriage was not based on love, as it perhaps should have been, but the understanding that they could help one another. She had met Onmund at the College of Winderhold, not too long ago. She had been wearing the Amulet of Mara to attract a man into marriage, but she had refused many suitors before Onmund. She was looking for somebody in specific: somebody who wouldn't leave her home on their own adventure. She needed somebody reliable, and Onmund had the qualifications.

On their first meeting, Onmund had revealed that he had left his family to study at the College of Winterhold. During the Dragonborn's own study there, they grew to be on good terms, with Onmund occasionally showing his strength as he accompanied her on jobs. The Dragonborn soon became Arch-Mage, and she felt that she had more to offer Onmund and that he was more likely to accept her offer of marriage as a result. In return for his loyalty as a husband, she would allow him to use her materials to help him complete his sorcery studies in her home. He knew she had a wealth of knowledge that would be more valuable to him than any other teacher and so they travelled to Riften to wed.

Only a very small number of close friends had been invited to the wedding but word soon got around about the Dragonborn's new love. She often ignored any rumour that swam around, but this one made her cringe. Her marriage was more of a business deal, something of which both party gained from. There was no love. It was a good understanding between two friends that involved commitment and loyalty, and nothing more.

As the Dragonborn reached her home in Solitude, the same routine followed as her husband discovered her arrival. He would share his profits from his small shop that he ran to stock up food and other supplies. He would make the bed fresh, ensuring the Dragonborn gained as much comfort as possible during her stay. Whilst she slept, he would make a fresh pie, leaving it to cool before the Dragonborn would leave for her travels again in the morning.

The housecarl, Jordis, would greet the Dragonborn and ask her about her health and work, constantly stating her loyalty to her. The Dragonborn didn't exactly like the idea of having a person of the court constantly living in her home, but to argue would cause drama with the Jarl, which she couldn't be bothered to deal with.

When the Dragonborn began to wonder what Onmund did in his free time, her thoughts went directly to Jordis. It would not surprise her if Onmund felt a little dissatisfied with his relationship – or lack, thereof – with his wife, and would seek company elsewhere. This company would most likely be Jordis, the woman who shared his house and whom he saw every morning and every evening.

The Dragonborn would not be able to blame him, if this was the case. She gave no indication that their marriage would be taken to a level above what they were already at. Onmund knew this. Everybody knew this. The Dragonborn was not like any normal person. She had no reason to seek male company.

However, the thought of her husband and her housecarl playing games in her home whilst she was away on important work irked her, and although she didn't mind what they did in their free time, she wanted to ensure that her authority was never ignored. Her tenants were to know that she could snap her fingers at any moment, and they would be completely at her mercy.

That was the reason why Runa was riding on her horse as she travelled up the steep path towards the gates of Solitude. To have a child in the house would give them extra responsibility. They wouldn't be able to play their silly games if Runa was there, and if they did, she would most likely cause them to feel guilty about it. The Dragonborn never committed a good act unless there was something in it for her. Even throwing a coin to the beggar on the street corner put her in some onlooker's good books.

It was early morning as they neared Solitude. The Dragonborn took off her gauntlets and held them underneath her arm against her waist. She gently lifted the sleeping Runa off her horse and commanded Shadowmere to wait in the nearby stables, which he seemed to understand well enough to obey. Meeko gave a quiet whimper, to which the Dragonborn replied with a knowing stare, promising a good piece of meat to her companion. Together, they both moved through the dark city, making their way to Proudspire Manor, where the Dragonborn was craving a good few bottles of wine.

'Welcome home, my love.' Onmund was still up, even at such a late hour. He was reading a book as he sat in the lounge. Jordis was sitting at the table nearby. 'I hope you are doing well.'

Onmund's voice had a gentle quality to it that the Dragonborn struggled to find anywhere else in Skyrim. Other people had a gruff voice that showed their resentment or struggles through life. Onmund was innocent and happy.

She walked past them without speaking a word and went upstairs to place Runa in her new bed in the spare room. The girl was still fast asleep, and the Dragonborn was grateful she could leave without having to speak to her. She went into the neighbouring room that held a double bed, a family safe and a small set of table and chairs, with a bottle of wine waiting for somebody to crack it open.

Throwing her gauntlets down onto the bed, the Dragonborn slumped into the wooden chair and opened the bottle of wine, drinking it straight from the bottle. She needed at least a bottle to feel relaxed after a difficult day, but as days were getting increasingly difficult, she felt she might be turning into an alcoholic. Of course, the dragons hardly made that possible, but if the Dragonborn was to retire and have nothing left to do with her time...

There was a small knock on the open door. The Dragonborn ignored it: although she was glad to see her husband and her house in good shape, that did not mean she wanted to make conversation.

Onmund stepped inside, peering around the door to see his wife slumped in a chair with half a bottle of wine. He wore the same robes he always wore – one might wonder if he ever changed out of them – and an odd expression on his face that appeared happy and content, but deep down, Onmund was filled with serious thoughts about his practice and studies.

'Here are your share of the profits, love,' Onmund said, placing a large cloth bag on the table. The gold coins inside knocked against each other. 'How have you been lately? Staying safe, I hope.'

The Dragonborn took off her crown and carelessly placed it onto the table as though it were made of iron. She glared at her husband, her tiredness clearly showing.

She translated his question into an inquiry about the child she had brought home, as he was most probably curious about her and wanted to know more without asking directly. 'Her name is Runa,' the Dragonborn replied. 'Keep my share -' she nudged the bag of coins towards him and dug a second, larger bag from her pocket, '-and spend it on her. New clothes, more food, some education, anything. Have Jordis teach her to use a sword and a bow. You will teach her how to use healing spell and how to create a healing potion. Spoil her.'

Although Onmund didn't appreciate being given orders by his better half, he knew that what the Dragonborn had in mind for this child was probably best. By being able to use a sword and a bow and arrow, she could defend herself in a tricky situation, or hunt to feed herself. A healing spell and healing potion would always come in handy as one could never be too careful these days. The Dragonborn would allow Runa to choose whatever path she wanted, but these basic lessons would be of value to anybody.

Onmund nodded to confirm that he understood the instructions. He jumped back as Meeko barked playfully at him – or at least, that's what it seemed like. It could have been a polite request for him to leave. Whatever the case, Onmund quietly closed the door behind him, leaving his wife alone in their bedroom.

Sometimes they would share a bed. These occasions might be that Onmund was in bed already, and the Dragonborn might arrive home and crash into bed beside him. Sometimes, the Dragonborn would be staying in Solitude for more than one night, and Onmund wouldn't feel that she needed to be alone and would join her. But on nights like this, Onmund would spend the rest of the night studying in the basement, leaving her to get a full night's sleep without his company.

Of course, on the rare occasion they did share a bed, nothing more would happen than mere sleeping. The Dragonborn didn't even own nightwear, and would wear a simple day dress and cloth boots to bed. With her being in such heavy armour on this night, she would remove the bone and sleep in the leather and fur undergarment, always making sure to keep a bone dagger beside her bed, just in case.

The next morning arrived and the Dragonborn was awake at five o'clock, ready to get back onto the road. She made her way down to the basement, grabbing a slice of cheese from the dining table as she went and stocked up on potions and sharpened her weapons. She threw a slice of cooked beef down at Meeko, who was already awake and at her feet, and went about preparing herself for the day ahead.

She was out of the door as fast as possible with Meeko at her heels. She pulled the rest of her bone armour over her gloves, tapped her sword to double check it was there, and strode toward the city gates. The tired men still standing guard opened it for her and she walked past without a word. The only sound she did make was a whistle to call Shadowmere, who galloped up the hill to her side immediately. How he had even heard it from such a distance, none of the guards knew. The Dragonborn mounted the horse and reached into her pocket to retrieve a small ball of cheese she had kept from earlier. She threw it at such an amazing distance that the tiny morsel of food disappeared completely from view, but that didn't stop Meeko from chasing after it as fast as he could. Spurring Shadowmere, the Dragonborn chased after Meeko as he sought his treat, and the three were off, back to travelling Skyrim.

Despite having no human companion aside from the rare occasion where she had no choice, the Dragonborn felt no yearning for a human friend. Shadowmere was a loyal servant, who would rush to her side in battle and fight against the enemy with his demon strength. Meeko, on the other hand, she could count as a true friend. Her husband was just a business partner, her housecarls were appointed servants, and her colleagues in the various factions she had joined were hardly friends, as they often doubted her strength and loyalty and some even went so far as to insult her when she met them again.

She was unusually patient, and, despite many people choosing not to believe it, she could be quite merciful. Should somebody question her authority, the Dragonborn would grit her teeth and walk away, allowing the ignorant peasant to continue with their pathetic life. It was only when somebody went out of their way to cause trouble for her, usually by attacking her, did she kill them without hesitation.

The Dragonborn didn't speak most of the time. She would occasionally exchange words with her husband but even that was to gain information. She rarely conversed with somebody just for a friendly chat. Of course, if money was to be gained, she would draw out all the information she needed from somebody, throwing question after question at them. But should the Dragonborn desire an in-depth conversation for social reasons, she found the dragons to be the best candidate for this.

One dragon in particular, was her favourite to speak to. She would often call Odahviing or summon Durnehviir as their aid was greatly appreciated in battles, but once they had done their job, they would leave, with neither party interested in conversing with each other. But should the Dragonborn ever have the desire to climb the seven-thousand steps or call Odahviing for a ride to the Throat of the World, she could spend hours sitting beside the word wall, her teacher staring down at her.

Paarthurnax had many words of wisdom to exchange with the Dragonborn. Together, they would meditate on words of power, and Paarthurnax would inform the Dragonborn on stories from ages ago.

When the Blades had ordered the Dragonborn to kill Paarthurnax, she could not believe her ears. With no intention of carrying out their order, she had journeyed to Paarthurnax and had told him what she had been asked to do.

'The Blades are wise not to trust me,' Paarthurnax had replied. 'What is better: to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?'

'I have no intentions of killing you,' the Dragonborn growled. 'You are no different to any other in this world.'

Whilst Paarthurnax offered a wealth of information and wisdom to the Dragonborn, she felt that killing him would serve as a sort of betrayal. In short, she respected him. She almost enjoyed spending the little time she spent meditating on words of power, with the entire world beneath their feet.

The Dragonborn often wondered if she was truly human. Her childhood had been bizarre, to say the least. In the eyes of others, she'd had a good upbringing. Her home was modest, and was kept well by her parents and siblings. Her parents had originally come from Skyrim, but had travelled to Cyrodiil due to her father's work. After hearing so much about their home in Skyrim, the Dragonborn had often wished to travel there to discover its wonders by herself.

But there was a reason why the Dragonborn was so good at fighting and sneaking around like the rat she was, picking up loot and claiming it to be hers, shooting an arrow into the back of someone's skull without them noticing until it was too late. She hadn't been the ideal child her parents had wished for. Indeed, her dragon origins had coursed through her blood since she was born, and she naturally blamed this for her ruthless and somewhat cruel actions. During her stay in prison, the Dragonborn had been asked when the first time she had experienced prison was. 'I've always been known to get into trouble', was her simple reply, and all she would say about her childhood. She was no different now than she was when she was a child.

The only difference was that, as a child, she had no means of accomplishing anything with her lack of skills. She was confined to the small town she lived in, due to the fear of a wolf attack should she stray too far from home. A thief had been spotted around the town during the night, and her family locked their house down, forbidding anybody from leaving in case anything dangerous should happen. During the day, even when things seemed peaceful, a handful of guards were out on patrol and still, her parents were cautious. She wasn't stealthy enough to sneak out and explore beyond the town. She definitely couldn't take on a wolf as a child.

Thus, she had found the right – or wrong – people to teach her these skills she would need. She only required to know the basics, and once she knew how to hold a weapon and the best ways of sneaking around, she was set to travel into Skyrim. Then, the dragon came and her need to master her skills became apparent. She hadn't bargained on fighting dragons and dragon priests. Needless to say, this was far more fun than petty thievery and deer hunting.

But the fact that she was Dragonborn never left her. She had her name but she rarely disclosed it to anybody. Of course, some people knew it. She would often be given letters addressed to her, or find a letter ordering her execution, defining her by her name. But she was rarely referred to by her name, and was mostly referred to as Dragonborn, or in the case of her factions, the title she had earned whilst working there. As a child, she had used the name her parents had given her. A name that was common, a name that other children had. Yet, she had earned various titles herself. There was only one Listener, one Arch-Mage, and only one Dragonborn.

Her power was a gift, and her story would be written, preserved in books that one day, some adventurer might find in a crypt and read, wondering what it was like to converse and fight with dragons. Although it was a difficult life that she led, she would not have it any other way. The pros outweighed the cons.

But the question remained: was she just as cruel as any other dragon, or did some humanity lurk somewhere deep inside her?


	2. Chapter 2

Originally from Ivarstead, Fastred was a young woman who lived at Fellstar Farm with her parents. Described as naïve and immature, Fastred longed to see the world past Ivarstead, and had practically begged her parents to allow her to travel. They had refused, unwilling to let her go off alone into the wilderness of Skyrim.

Then one day, a man passed through Ivarstead. He was an old family friend and, upon hearing his plans to travel to Solitude, Fastred longed to go with him. He was carting wares to sell there in the market – one of the best, he had said. Knowing that Fastred would be in safe hands, her parents let her go, knowing full well that their friend had come from Riften and had a wealth of experience that would prove Fastred was in safe hands.

But, as they neared the end of their journey, there had been a dragon attack. It was a small dragon and one that the guards of Dragon Bridge could handle between themselves. But the fire was dangerous and the plan was to quickly run for Solitude in an attempt to escape. They stopped at a crossroad to read the direction signs, and, with all the chaos of the dragon attack, it seemed the perfect moment for a bandit attack.

They had leapt in and, seeing that Fastred had a good fighter at her side, they swiftly threw him towards a steep drop in the road, sending him to the Stormcloak camp below. He hit rocks as he fell and had died before he had even hit the ground.

Fastred and her cart was all that was left.

Upon seeing that Fastred wasn't the usual meat, the bandits decided to make it a little more worth their while and silently decided between themselves to take advantage of Fastred before her death. As the apparent leader stepped towards Fastred and held a knife to her throat, she opened her mouth to beg for her life, before an arrow shot through his skull, knocking him off his feet and to the ground.

Fastred cowered, too frightened to run or to fight with the given chance. She hid her face with her hands as her legs collapsed underneath her and she knelt on the ground, desperately wishing it to be over. She heard shouts and lame threats, but nothing from the uninvited guest. She heard a dog barking and one of the bandits cried out as the dog apparently bit him. Another clash of metal, a blade slicing through flesh and then, there was silence.

Trembling against the rocks behind her, Fastred didn't open her eyes. She heard footsteps coming towards her, and as she heard them get louder, she suddenly jumped up, wondering where her energy had come from, and went to make a run away from the attacker. Without a word, she felt a fist grab her wrist and pull her back. Terrified that it was the last remaining bandit, Fastred screamed out in horror and writhed against her captor.

A pale green light suddenly enveloped Fastred, and she felt her fear and anger vanish from her completely. Curious of this strange light, she turned to the person holding her, and saw a woman standing beside her holding her hand up that could barely be seen due to the green light surrounding her gloved palm. Her face was partially covered in blood, a stern glare fixed on Fastred's face. Feeling a lot calmer, Fastred became less tense and the woman felt she could remove her grip from her without another escape.

'Who are you?' Fastred asked casually. She looked around her, taking in the corpses of the bandits who had attacked her. She looked upon them with nonchalance, as though they were weeds among a bed of flowers.

The woman lowered her hand, the light vanishing as she did so. 'I'm sorry, there was no other way but to force you to calm down.'

Fastred hardly cared. She shrugged and turned to the broken cart that had tipped over in the attack. She bent down to see if there was anything to scavenge.

'They have destroyed all our goods,' Fastred cursed. 'What terrible human beings...'

The woman looked to her right to see Solitude in the distance, where she had just come from an hour before. She immediately presumed this girl was travelling there to sell what goods she had been carrying, although that seemed pointless now.

Fastred stood up and dusted her clothes off. She had managed to find a torn coin purse, with a few septims still inside. She placed it in her skirt pocket and turned back to the woman and noticed the full effect of the spell wear off as she suddenly realised who she was.

Dragon's bones for armour, an expression that clearly told of the wonders and horrors she had witnessed and a beautiful crown that contrasted the rank smell of wet muck that came from her huge dog. The countless stories Fastred had heard about this woman rushed through her mind, causing her to take a step back in fear and shock.

Realising the spell had worn off, the Dragonborn tried to soften her expression. 'You may as well go home.'

'M-my friend... is he okay?' Fastred asked, although she knew the answer. Perhaps there was still enough time left to save him?

The Dragonborn raised an eyebrow and turned to where the young girl was staring. She walked towards the cliff edge and looked down. Her dog followed her and, upon seeing the mangled body lying motionless on the floor, a pool of blood around his head, he began to bark.

As she turned back to face the shaking girl, she knew that the action of her turning her back against the cliff edge would tell her all she needed to know. In an attempt to get her mind off the subject, the Dragonborn decided to probe into her plans a little.

'There is a cart outside of Solitude,' she said, taking a step toward the confused girl. She dug inside her pocket and held out two gold coins to her. 'He will take you back to Ivarstead.'

The Dragonborn was surprised to see that Fastred was alarmed and confused by this suggestion. Her eyes darted to Solitude, to the Dragonborn, to her dog, to the direction of Dragon Bridge and every which way before she realised what the Dragonborn was trying to say. Solitude was visible in the distance, but she was still frightened from the attack that had just happened. She looked down at her shoes and saw that she was standing in a small puddle of blood. With a sharp squeal, she jumped out of it.

As she looked up again, she realised that the Dragonborn was already walking toward Dragon Bridge, with a dark, armoured horse that had seemingly appeared from nowhere slowly following her. She jumped forward and reached her hand out to gain the Dragonborn's attention before realising what an idiotic idea that was.

'Please -!' Fastred whimpered. She held her hand to her chest and watched as the Dragonborn slowly turned around to face her. Fasted felt a weight in her pocket and remembered she had pocketed a small bag of coins earlier. She dug it out and thrust it into the Dragonborn's face, desperate for her help.

'Please don't leave me,' Fastred could feel tears coming to her eyes as she begged for assistance. 'I'm so frightened. This is my first time away from Ivarstead. My parents didn't want me to leave but I pleaded with them to let me travel to Solitude and I couldn't even do that. Please, _please_ take me back home.'

The Dragonborn looked at the bag of coins. Ignoring Meeko's impatient bark, she took it from the sobbing girl and looked inside to count. She raised an eyebrow at the pathetic payment and considered her options.

Fastred cocked her head slightly to the side, wondering what the Dragonborn's reaction to the amount of coin could be. Was it not enough? 'My father has more coin that he will gladly give to you upon my safe return,' she encouraged.

Fastred wore no fancy clothes, despite her travelling. The Dragonborn doubted she would be getting much more payment. She glanced down at Meeko, who was looking up at her with his large, amber eyes. Then he looked at Fastred and barked.

That was enough of an answer for the Dragonborn. 'Fine.'

She turned and walked away. Despite the acceptance of the job, Fastred hesitated before following her at a distance.

They walked down the cobbled slope down toward Dragon Bridge. Fastred wondered how the Dragonborn felt walking through Dragon Bridge, considering it should feel like home to her, considering the name and all. It was a naïve thought, she realised, as the Dragonborn made no eye contact with anybody in the small village and continued to walk through without even stopping at the inn.

As they neared the bridge, Fastred realised that she was only just recovering from the shock of the attack and began to feel pains in her legs and in her stomach. They walked up a rather steep slope for a bridge, Fastred thought, and as she wondered and thought of childish things, she accidentally tripped and fell onto her hands and knees.

The Dragonborn stopped in her tracks and took a moment to turn around and see Fastred lying on the floor, bemused at her fall. She had no patience for children, least of all young women acting like them. She went to turn around again until she saw more tears come to Fastred's eyes as she moved from her hands and knees and sat down properly to see what damage had been done.

The Dragonborn glowered at the interruption to her schedule, as she had initially hoped to get Fastred back to Ivarstead as quickly as possible. She strode over to and knelt before her, almost making Fastred jump out of her skin as she hadn't noticed her coming. She roughly grabbed Fastred's scraped hands and held them together in hers.

A warm, orange light enveloped both of their hands. It made Fastred feel giddy inside as she felt the sting of the scrape disappear. The Dragonborn lowered their hands to Fastred's knees, where the glow surrounded the wounds on her legs and healed them before her very eyes. Fastred watched in fascination, having never seen anything before like it. And then, as quickly as it had happened, it was over.

The Dragonborn stood up, and Fastred, too shocked at the healing spell to react, let out a small scream as the Dragonborn picked up as easily as if she was a sack of flour. Surprised, she instinctively threw her arms around the woman's neck to secure herself and waited awkwardly in her arms as the Dragonborn took her to her horse and lifted her onto the saddle.

'Oh!' Fastred cried out, as she made herself comfortable and gently picked up the reigns to feel she had something to hold onto. 'Is this okay?'

'It is faster this way,' was all the Dragonborn said.

Fastred swallowed. This woman was different to any other she had met. She had seen men wander through Ivarstead who boasted of their strength. She had seen men who had told stories that they had endured terrible horrors she could not imagine, but there was no scrap of fear on their face as they recalled the event. She had seen groups of travellers make their way up the seven thousand steps, with sheer determination on their face and no hesitation.

But this woman was different. Her eyes were a soft blue and seemed to know no empathy or kindness. The black rings that reached her eyebrows and touched her cheeks made her look almost foreign, although the paleness of her skin told Fastred that she was a Nord, like herself. Her hair was a dark blonde, and arranged into neat plaits above her ears to keep hair away from her face. She was taller than Fastred, but not taller than her father, and her frame was around the same as her mother's. How could such a person, who was so similar in appearance, seem so alien?

And then, Fastred realised she did not know the Dragonborn's name. Did anyone? She had many titles, that was for sure. She had come to learn that when somebody spoke of the Harbinger or the Arch-Mage, that they spoke of the Dragonborn. She certainly had travelled well around Skyrim. Did she have even more titles that Fastred didn't know of?

'Um,' Fastred started. She wanted to address the woman to gain her attention, but felt awkward giving her the Dragonborn title for some reason. She decided to forgo it, and endure the awkwardness. 'What is your name?'

There was no answer.

The dog barked as if answering her for the Dragonborn. They seemed awfully close. Could the Dragonborn speak to Meeko, unlike any other person? She had heard that she had spoken to dragons, although apparently, they could speak. Could she read minds? No, that was ridiculous. Fastred giggled at the thought.

As her childish amusement vanished, Fastred suddenly felt frustrated that the Dragonborn had ignored her question, and that she was so foreign. She wanted to confront and ask her why this was the case. There was always the possibility that the Dragonborn would be so offended that she leave Fastred on the side of the road to fend for herself, but Fastred wouldn't be able to stand such a painfully awkward trip anyway.

'Are you angry at... something?' Fastred asked. 'Your attitude to everything seems unpleasant. Do you know it's unhealthy to live your life like that?'

Fastred blushed as the abrupt statement left her. Why did she say that? What would it solve? The Dragonborn would just ignore it, as she had earlier, and Fastred would seem like an immature child, getting angry at the smallest thing that couldn't be fixed. Did she expect to make a difference by asking that?

The Dragonborn took a while to answer. Fastred wondered whether she would answer at all, and was about to resign herself to accept being ignored when she finally spoke.

'I have experienced very little in Skyrim that would make my attitude pleasant.'

Fastred was confused. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't think of the right things to say. Eventually, she stammered out whatever came to her mind first, determined to change the Dragonborn's way of thinking.

'How can you say that when we are walking past a beautiful river?' She gestured to the trickle of water beside them. A small family of mudcrabs were hiding underneath the water, nearly out of sight. 'And the sun is promising to come out today. We have also had good weather for crops this year, which is better than last year when we struggled through the winter. You have also slain Alduin, the World-Eater. You have saved us all. You have -.'

'For the amount of 'good' I have done, I have done twice as much damage,' the Dragonborn cut her off sharply.

Fastred frowned. All that she had heard about the Dragonborn was about the good things she had done. She had prevented Alduin from returning and had saved them all from certain death. She had stopped the people of Winterhold from hating the College, and had become Arch-Mage and turned it toward a new direction. She hadn't heard much other than that, but the amount of good those roles did surely cancelled out all other bad deeds she did?

Fastred jumped down from Shadowmere, determined to change the Dragonborn's view of herself and do some good on this journey. Perhaps her good words would be an addition to the payment she had given her, and the Dragonborn might be a changed woman. It was wishful thinking, but it was worth trying.

'I have only heard good things about you,' Fastred said as she caught up to the irritated woman. 'You should think of only the _good_ things you have done, instead of the bad.'

'That's enough -.' The Dragonborn started, suddenly reaching out to grab Shadowmere's reigns and pushing him off to the side of the road. Why she did that, Fastred was uncertain, but she must still try to persuade her otherwise.

'Without you, millions of people would have _died_. You are even helping to take me home when you could have left me to the mercy of those bandits -.'

'I get it -.' Meeko began to bark, as if he was telling Fastred that the Dragonborn had had enough.

'But why do you _still_ -?'

'_Move!_' The Dragonborn had been patient for long enough and couldn't stand Fastred's ignorance any longer. Using her whole body weight, she threw herself onto Fastred and they both landed on the floor. As Fastred's head hit the dry soil, she heard an arrow fly over both of their heads.

The Dragonborn was up and crouching, leaving Fastred lying dazed and confused on the floor. '_Stay down,_' the Dragonborn hissed. She looked over to where she had pushed Shadowmere off to and, seeing that he had been pushed into the direction of a Forsworn archer, she decided to use her bound bow and arrow instead of the Dragonbone set that was hanging from Shadowmere.

Fastred squealed as the Dragonborn lifted her hand, an orb of purple light glowing inside her palm. The orb of light grew into the shape of a bow, and a quiver of arrows appeared on her back. She moved in front of Fastred, silently ordering Meeko to move to the back of her. She took an arrow from the quiver, arranged her bow to shoot at something in the distance, and in an instant, she had let the arrow go flying. The only evidence that her aim had been successful was a distant pained cry.

The Dragonborn stood and looked around. She turned to Shadowmere to see that he had killed the archer, and that he, too, was on alert for any other attackers. Fastred, unable to move from fear, watched the Dragonborn's face as she looked around for any other attacker. It was fascinating to watch her at work.

'Did you kill them?' Fastred's voice was high and shrill. She tripped slightly as she found her feet and went to stand beside the Dragonborn. She gave her a deathly glare, her silent way of telling her to be quiet, which Fastred didn't understand.

'Can we continue then?' Fastred asked, desperate to leave this area. She wasn't accustomed to death. To be in the same vicinity as corpses was disturbing to her. '_Please –_ can we -?'

From out of nowhere, a Forsworn ravager jumped from behind a group of rocks. She had been hidden well, and Fastred hadn't known she was there. The Dragonborn had known there had been another Forsworn rat around, but with Fastred's constant talking, she hadn't been able to pinpoint their location.

Because of this, she had been caught off guard. She took a step back into Fastred, pushing her away from the attacker as she did so. Her bow and arrow was of no use to her with the ravager at such a close proximity, and she shook her hand to rid herself of the bow and arrow. She went to reach for her sword that hung from her belt, but the ravager had two smaller swords, and was much quicker.

The ravager brought up two bone swords, with sharp teeth that jutted seemingly from everywhere. She swung, taking a step forward with each one, slowly getting closer to the Dragonborn. Meeko barked furiously, making sure to keep his distance. At one point, Fastred swore that she saw one of the swords catch Meeko's face. Blood dripped from his mouth as he growled with even more ferocity. The Dragonborn, dodging every swing, was simply waiting for a gap for her to enter and attack.

But none came, and eventually, the ravager was too close to Fastred for the Dragonborn's liking. Unable to take a step back, she steeled herself and waited for the swords to swing down toward her. When they did, she caught both of them in her leather gloved hands and gripped them tight. Then, with the ravager stuck in her hold, she pushed her heels into the grass, braced her body and took a deep breath.

'Fus – ro _dah_!'

The ravager let her grip of the swords go and was sent flying back into the rocks from which she had been hiding behind. Fastred saw as the force of the Dragonborn's shout threw the Forsworn dog into the rocks with such force that their head hit a sharp edge and cracked loudly. As they fell to the ground, a large stain of blood covered the rocks.

There seemed to be an echo, or a residue of the shout still lingering in the air, much like the silence after a crack of thunder. Fastred was too shocked to speak. She didn't even noticed the Dragonborn turning around and lifting her roughly from the ground to her feet. She looked down to dust the dirt from her unclean dress, but when she looked up to thank the Dragonborn for saving her life yet again, she felt a rough hand back slap her across the face.

The force of the hit almost made her think her neck would snap. Her head turned and her body crumpled slightly, but she kept her balance and did not fall. Tears came to her eyes as her cheek burned. She lifted a shaking hand to her face to feel the damage, but her cheek was too hot to touch. That damn dog barked again, as if he was praising the Dragonborn's cruel action.

'...Why...?' Fastred whimpered.

'It is because of your ignorance that you are in this mess to begin with,' the Dragonborn seethed. 'Are you so stupid that you will continue to be so naïve? Your childish nature will get us all killed.'

Fastred felt herself crumple as tears came to her eyes, blurring her view. She was too afraid to look at the Dragonborn, and took a step back in fear. As if she knew what was going to happen, the Dragonborn quickly caught Fastred by the elbow before she managed to run off in tears.

'Did you not hear me?' The Dragonborn asked loudly. 'Why are you still willing to run off into danger?'

'You frighten me!' Fastred wailed, fighting back against the Dragonborn's grip. It was stupid, and she knew she wouldn't be able to escape. 'I want to go home!'

The Dragonborn lifted a hand to summon the green light of a calming spell, but for some reason it did not come. Instead, she grabbed Fastred's shoulder with her free hand and forced her to face her.

'_Stop. _You need to calm down. I said I would take you home, and that is what I will do. If you run away now, no doubt you will trip over your own feet and break your neck. Do I need to hit you again to calm you down?'

Fastred stopped struggling and went limp in the Dragonborn's grip. Sniffling, she meekly shook her head. Tears ran down her face as she looked into the Dragonborn's furious eyes. But, they weren't as angry as they were when she had hit her. No, they were more... concerned.

Assured that she wouldn't run away, the Dragonborn let go of her, cursing to herself. She went over to Shadowmere and pulled out a cloth and threw it to Fastred, who was confused as to what she wanted. Her arms hurt slightly after being held tight, and when she looked down, she realised they were covered in blood.

Starting, she quickly checked herself for injuries. She hadn't felt an arrow pierce her skin, or felt a blade against her flesh so where could this blood have come from? She wiped it away with the scrap of cloth and it suddenly dawned on her where it had come from.

The Dragonborn was taking her ring and gloves off and inspecting her bloodied hands. There were deep cuts to her palms and fingers that must have occurred when she had caught the two Forsworn swords. She rooted through Shadowmere's bags and looked for a healing potion, but when she gave up and cursed again, Fastred realised she had none left.

She walked over to the annoyed woman and went out to reach her hands to look at them more closely, but the Dragonborn flinched and turned away. Knowing that this was her fault, Fastred suddenly knew how she could make up for her terrible behaviour.

'I can help you,' she said, reaching out again. When the Dragonborn would not willingly provide her hands for inspection, Fastred grabbed them without the invitation. A stupid thing to do, as the Dragonborn could kill her in an instant, but she just stood there as Fastred looked at the damage the Forsworn had done.

Her hands were a bloodied mess. There were several deep cuts to the palms of her hands, grazes to her wrists and her fingers were so badly injured that they looked disfigured. This would take a while to heal, but it was not impossible. Fastred would be able to make a make-shift healing potion in no time once she had all the ingredients.

She could even help the dog out, she thought as she looked over at Meeko, but there was no scrap of blood dripping from his face. He was panting, which made him look as though he was smiling, and seemed completely fine again. Fastred cocked her head as she wondered how this might have happened – did she imagine his injury? - but her thoughts were interrupted.

'I would use my healing spell,' the Dragonborn said through clenched teeth, 'but I cannot conjure it.'

'And who is the stupid one for having no healing potions?' Fastred suddenly snapped. The fact that she had no potions at all on her made Fastred angry enough to retort, especially since she had been called stupid only seconds before. The look on the Dragonborn's face was of seething anger, but she did not reply.

'I can make something that will take away the pain and begin the healing process,' Fastred said, wiping away the blood with the cloth. 'Do you have a blue mountain flower?'

'I'm not much of an alchemist,' the Dragonborn replied.

This really made Fastred's blood boil. There was nothing else to do but clean the wound and wrap it up. 'Well, do you have _water_? Do you have _anything_?'

Ripping her hands away from Fastred's, the Dragonborn dug her injured hand into a bag that hung from Shadowmere and pulled out a small glass bottle of water. Before she had chance to apply the water to her wound, Fastred snatched it from her and began to do it herself.

'Do you honestly think you're so powerful that you're invincible to any attack?' Fastred muttered as she poured the water over the Dragonborn's hands and began to wipe more blood away.

'I don't normally let myself get attacked like that,' the Dragonborn was quick to remind her.

Fastred bristled. 'Surely you make mistakes sometimes, oh great Dragonborn. And tell me, how do you expect to cope without healing potions when your spells are of no use?'

There was no reply, and so Fastred looked up to encourage one from her when she saw that her gaze was lowered and she wore an almost pained expression on her face. Her anger had subsided as she looked truly shamed, although Fastred couldn't tell why.

'Well?' Fastred gently urged, not wanting to leave her in this state.

'I have ways of managing.' Her voice was but a whisper, and one that Fastred had to strain to hear.

'How?' Fastred pressed. She sounded like her mother, scolding a naughty child and demanding information from them in order to fix what they had broken.

'Namira has granted me power to do so,' the Dragonborn finally replied. At this, Fastred immediately stopped what she was doing and left her hands hanging in the air. Without another word, the Dragonborn took the cloth from her and ripped in into two parts, and wrapped a piece around each hand. She took the water bottle from Fastred's lingering hand and put it back into Shadowmere's bag and went to place her gloves back over her hands.

'You may run, if you still wish,' she finally spoke. Fastred moved her head from its fixed state to turn to look at her. She was too stunned to speak, for once. She watched as the Dragonborn looked at the Ring of Namira she had obviously been wearing earlier – how Fastred hadn't noticed it, she didn't know – and pocketed it, choosing instead to wear an enchanted diamond ring.

'I-if...' Fastred swallowed. She wasn't certain why she wasn't already running away from an angry cannibal. It would be so easy for the Dragonborn to kill her and devour her flesh. Why wasn't she more scared? 'If that is... how you survive without your spells... why aren't you -?'

'It is a necessary evil,' the Dragonborn replied curtly, gently pulling on Shadowmere's reigns to get him to move. 'Those who have physically injured me are the ones I choose to heal me, but I would rather forgo the meal and spare you that experience. I will just have to be more careful for a while.'

She walked ahead, with Shadowmere trotting behind her and Meeko at her heels. Fastred watched for a brief moment before running to catch up with her. She didn't seem surprised that she was still following, but more saddened that she chose to do so.

'It is one of the many curses bestowed upon me,' the Dragonborn sighed. 'It is because of this that I find it difficult to share your enthusiasm for happiness.'

Fastred gulped. She'd had no idea. She had no clue what it was like to be in the Dragonborn's heavy boots, or what it was like to have so many responsibilities thrust upon her. She pitied her.

'Do not waste your sympathy on me,' the Dragonborn said, as if she was reading her thoughts. 'Though I owe many debts to many of the divines and carry heavy burdens with me, I have the power to do many of things I never thought I could when I was younger.'

'Oh?' Fastred inquired. She was actually having a conversation with the Dragonborn. She didn't want this to end. She had so much to learn about her.

'I can travel anywhere in Skyrim without the fear of being attacked,' she replied, casting a knowing look to Fastred. She then turned her eyes back to the road ahead. 'And if I want something, I usually get it. Materialistic objects, that is.'

'Is that all you wish for, though? Materialistic objects?' Fastred asked. The Dragonborn was beginning to look weary, as though she was getting tired and needed to sleep. 'What about your freedom, or a constant companion on the road? Aren't you lonely, dealing with this burden on your own?'

'I have two constant companions, who give me more than a human could,' she replied. 'You and I see the world very differently, and what you might consider odd, I consider normal. I am foreign to you, and I do not expect you to understand.'

Then, she was silent. Fastred asked her a few more questions, but it was as if she had reached her limit for speaking for the day. They walked in silence. The only way for Fastred to amuse herself was to gaze around the landscape as they walked through the hills and across rivers. Somewhere down the road, the Dragonborn took a package wrapped in parchment and passed it to her without a word. Inside was a slice of cooked meat and some cheese, which she enjoyed eating as she walked. She did not see the Dragonborn eat, though.

She walked on one side of Shadowmere, whilst the Dragonborn walked on the other. Only sometimes, when Shadowmere would stop for a brief moment, would she catch a glimpse of her. Her dark blue eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Her fist was occasionally clenching as if she expected another attack, but it was quiet for the rest of the day.

When the sun began to down in the early evening, and Fastred was becoming weary, the Dragonborn spoke for the first time since their earlier conversation. Fastred had not spoken or complained of her sore feet or aching head, and was glad that she was distracting her for a moment.

'What is your name?' She asked.

Fastred suddenly realised she hadn't shared it with her. She had asked of hers, but had never gotten it. Should she really bother to answer her, when she herself had been ignored?

'My name is Fastred Fellstar,' she replied. 'Can I have yours?'

'We will stop for the night, Fastred,' the Dragonborn replied, still ignoring her question. She stopped walking, and Fastred looked over to where she was indicting. There was a small pond, quite well hidden by the surrounding trees and bushes.

'Outside?' Fastred asked, surprised. 'Do you not stay at inns?'

'You will be at risk if we continue to walk the extra two hours to the nearest inn,' the Dragonborn said, and Fastred blushed furiously at her concern that made her feel like an immature child. She wished she hadn't caused her to be injured earlier. 'I have a tent and will set up a camp fire. You are tired.'

They moved toward the pond where a single mudcrab was lurking. The Dragonborn summoned her bound bow before taking it out with one arrow. She went over to retrieve it and held it in front of Fastred, as though she was giving her a present.

'Can you cook mudcrab?' She asked.

'Y-yes,' Fastred said, stunned at the question. She took the dead crab from the Dragonborn and held it awkwardly.

'The fire will be set up soon. I will set up the rest of the camp while you cook the mudcrab. Make yourself useful.'

Fastred winced at the sore reminder. Once the fire was set up, she busied herself by cooking the mudcrab in a pot the Dragonborn had given her to use. She used a poor selection of vegetables that she had found in a bag hung around Shadowmere. All she had for the stew was a single potato, a carrot and two leeks. There was no seasoning. Did the Dragonborn ever eat properly or did she simply rip off legs from deer and eat them raw?

If she never ate, or never ate healthily at least, then Fastred swore to serve a meal that the Dragonborn would miss when she was gone. She might not be any good at the farm, but she could cook a decent meal.

The Dragonborn had finished setting up the tent and bedrolls quicker than Fastred had expected, and she was still cooking the stew by the time she came over. She sat beside her and there was an awkward silence – or awkward for Fastred, anyway – as they both watched the pot.

Fastred stole a glance at the woman sitting beside her. Meeko was asleep by the fire, too worn out to stay awake and wait for his food. Shadowmere was half-grazing on the floor where he stood, but not really taking any interest in it, as though he wasn't hungry either. She didn't like his glowing red eyes. He wasn't a normal horse.

But the Dragonborn wasn't watching the pot. She was staring in that general direction, but Fastred could tell she was lost in her own thoughts. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were glazed slightly. She turned her head slightly as she heard a twig snap in the distance. Fastred wondered if she was recalling good memories or trying to shun bad ones.

After a moment, her eyes still fixed on the strange woman, Fastred noticed that the boiling water was beginning to reach the brim of the pot. The Dragonborn had seen it, but had left it to Fastred to fix, it being her job and all. Fastred silently cursed herself for making a mistake on something she was supposed to be good at.

She split the stew into three bowls, and gave two to the Dragonborn, who gave the smaller portion to Meeko. He lifted his head slowly and sniffed at the bowl for a few moment before putting his head back down and closing his eyes. For a moment, Fastred was insulted that not even the dog liked her cooking, until the Dragonborn shoved a wooden spoon into the bowl and began to eat.

'It's too hot for the dog,' she commented as she swallowed her first mouthful. 'It tastes fine.'

Fastred grinned like an excited child. Pleased she had done something right, they continued to eat the stew in silence for a while until Fastred decided to note on something.

'It might taste better if you kept more food.'

The Dragonborn lifted her bowl to her lips and drank down the rest of the watery stew. She threw her spoon into it and placed it on the ground beside her, wakening the dog who seemed to remember he had his own dinner waiting.

'A warrior should eat three healthy meals a day. What do you eat? Aside from...'

'That is a very rare occasion,' the Dragonborn hastily replied. 'I usually eat after a fight to regain the strength I have lost. It is rare that I am simply walking on the road and not hunting something down.'

Fastred shut her mouth immediately. Before, when the Dragonborn was staring at the pot, Fastred thought she saw something different in her. But as she spoke of killing, and it being a _common occurrence_, she reverted back to the cold, distant woman. Were Fastred's efforts futile?

Seeing that everyone had finished their meal, the Dragonborn stood up and went to walk to the pond to wash the bowls and cutlery. Before she did so, she turned to Fastred. 'Go to sleep.'

Fastred stood up from the campfire and went to walk to the tent, but stopped when she saw only one bedroll.

'We will be taking turns sleeping?' She asked. She might need some waking up, if that was the case.

'No,' the Dragonborn replied, picking up the pot from the fire and taking it to the pond.

'But where will you sleep?' Fastred asked, stunned.

'Perhaps I will find a moment while on watch.'

Fastred huffed and almost picked up her foot to stamp the ground in frustration. 'You do not eat, you do not sleep, you hardly talk. Are you sure you're a Nord, or even human?'

She was suddenly nervous that such an outburst would cause her to take offence and react strongly or to tell her to mind her own business. But what she did made Fastred pale in shock.

A smile crept onto her dark lips as she lowered her head and shook it slightly. Turning to sit on a wooden stump that was located not too far from the fire, she said, 'what a stupid question to ask the Dragonborn.'


	3. Chapter 3

The night wasn't bitterly cold, and with the fire crackling beside the tent, Fastred was able to fall asleep as soon as she lay down onto the bedroll. So tired was she, that she could not hear Meeko's quiet snoring as he lay beside the fire, or Shadowmere's frequent stomping of the ground as he stood on apparent guard. The Dragonborn sat a few feet away from the fire and leant against a tree. A large volume sat in her lap, entitled, _The Last Year of the First Era_, through which she slowly skimmed through, her mind obviously elsewhere, until she grew so bored she placed it down on the ground beside her.

She cast a quick glance to the tent, under which Fastred was fast asleep. She still wore her brown dress, which was now covered in soil and blood, and the Dragonborn decided she would give her her emergency blue dress, which she hardly ever wore and would have no more use from. It was cleaner, at least.

Fastred's words ran through her mind. Those lecturing words encouraging her to change her attitude were not the first she had heard by a long shot, but she couldn't seem to get them out of her head. She felt confused by who she was, and what she was. It seemed she belonged with no certain group of company; with the dragons, she was known throughout them as Dragonborn, but they ridiculed her for not speaking their language. With humans, she was hailed as the Dragon Slayer, but they never managed to fail to comment on her appearance, despite being a complete stranger, and her desire to get closer to them diminished with each new person she met. And with anybody who wasn't a Nord, she was discriminated against simply for her race. True, Skyrim wasn't a gentle home for those who weren't Nords, but she had never considered it her home.

Thus, it was no surprise that the Dragonborn found that her favourite time was spent with Meeko. Shadowmere was a loyal companion and a good fighter, but he was Astrid's demonic horse, and she found it hard to treat him as anything but an acquaintance.

The Dragonborn looked at Meeko, who was lying on his side, warming his belly at the fire. He had been cut by the Forsworn scum earlier, but she had noted it had healed in seconds. This was no miracle. When the Dragonborn had first found Meeko, she was reluctant to let him follow and even told him to leave a few times before she finally relented. He was thin and looked old, and when she went into battle, he would charge off and she wound be trying to find him for hours afterwards. On one occasion, the battle was too much for him and he never returned.

With all threats eliminated, the Dragonborn went in search of him and found him lying at the bottom of several stone steps. His breathing was laboured, his paw was broken and his face was bloodied. She had thrown off her iron helmet and gauntlets and panicked. She'd had no idea what to do.

His breathing stopped and she started, until they began again. They grew slower with each minute. She held both her hands up, wanting to hold him or to do something, _anything_ instead of just sitting there and doing nothing.

With both hands over his body, she summoned a grand healing spell in the left and a reanimate corpse spell in the other. She held both hands beside each other until the two spells mixed, and focused them both into Meeko.

Though he appeared very much alive, by eating and sleeping and bleeding, he was stuck between life and death. The Dragonborn was certain that, although he was nearing old age, he had another decade or so waiting for him. With her spells and enchantments, she would be capable of making Meeko feel that he was younger than he was. In short, nobody would know Meeko's real age unless they were told. He would be able to take any amount of damage, and it would heal in an instant.

It was a selfish thing for her to do. There were numerous stray dogs lurking about Skyrim, but Meeko was special. She hadn't expected she'd rely on such company, especially from a dog. She didn't know what she'd do with herself if he died, and so she gave her affections to him from a distance, hence why he slept at the fire and she sat at the tree.

The night was rather quiet. The Dragonborn dozed off a few times during the night, awakening at any disturbing noise she heard. At each time she woke, she glanced at Meeko. He never stirred. She narrowed her eyes as she recalled that dogs were supposed to be on constant alert, but Meeko never seemed to bother. Perhaps it was because she was just as quick as him at reacting to disturbances, and because of this, he felt she had it under control.

When she heard a rustle and a loud clatter in the early hours of the morning, she awoke with a start. She hadn't realised she had fallen asleep. Her body was trembling and she felt a light sheen of sweat on her face as the breeze brushed past her. Although she couldn't recall what she had dreamt of, she knew it was a haunting nightmare.

Fastred was already up and setting up the pot for breakfast, but she stopped when she saw the Dragonborn stand and wipe her brow with her hand. She could see her shaking slightly as she moved toward the pond to wash her face.

'Are you alright?' Fastred asked. 'I'm sorry if I woke you.'

The Dragonborn said nothing as she washed her face and drank a little of the rather foul water. She turned to Fastred who was watching her with a concerned look on her face and mentally kicked herself for falling asleep.

'What do you intend to cook?' She asked, taking her crown off to wipe it with her glove. Fastred watched the beauty of the crystals as they gleamed in the new sunlight as she placed it back on her head.

'There's no need for you to hunt anything,' Fastred said. She seemed very pleased with herself, for some reason. 'I found a Juniper plant nearby. I'm afraid it might taste a little odd, but it is better than nothing.'

She had made a very bizarre juniper berry soup. It didn't taste foul, but it did taste quite plain. Meeko didn't touch it. The Dragonborn ate it quickly to get it out of the way. When they had finished, Fastred washed the pots and bowls whilst the Dragonborn packed the tent away and when everything was loaded onto Shadowmere, they were back on the road.

They were travelling to Rorikstead. They weren't too far away from it, and would probably reach it by midday. They were travelling a little too late in the morning for the Dragonborn's liking, as she liked to begin her day as the sun rose, but she supposed yesterday had worn her out more than she had realised.

The Dragonborn liked Rorikstead. It was a small village situated not too far from Whiterun, and when she had first passed through it, she wondered why it had taken her so long to do so. It was in Rorikstead when the Dragonborn had met Erik.

Erik – or, Erik the Slayer, as he soon became – was a farmer's son who had longed to travel the country and sell his sword. There was something about him that the Dragonborn had liked. She couldn't place her finger on it, and, after so much time had passed, she still couldn't. He was a stupid and naïve boy, despite being a year older than her, and often came out with moronic remarks.

So desperate was he to travel, the Dragonborn had relented and simply given them the much needed money for armour and weapons. She was never too precious about money, and giving a handful away didn't cause her to lose any sleep. She had ventured on to Solitude whilst Erik and his father journey to Whiterun for the supplies, and on her return, she went back into the inn to see their progress.

That was when Erik had renamed himself Erik the Slayer. It was a laughable title, but one, as Erik had pointed out, that might serve him well. It was better than Erik the Farmer, at least. That was when she had blurted out the stupid invitation.

'Would you care to join me on my travels?'

The stupid boy had charged her five-hundred septims for his company, and the Dragonborn had grimaced as she handed the bag of coin over. Even as she thought back to it, she had no idea why she did it. Erik was a poor 'slayer' and often got in the way of her fights. She had been mastering the bow at the time, and needed a few extra seconds to get her aim right before letting the arrow fly. Erik decided to take these few extra seconds and stand before her, blocking her aim and forcing her to move and draw her sword instead.

His company was barely satisfactory. He often wondered about certain crypts and caves they wandered into, wondering about their history or recent importance. He was a dreamer, the Dragonborn had concluded. Perhaps it was that feature that she liked about him the most.

They were on the road together for about a fortnight, maybe less. There had been no 'accidental' touching or blurted out fantasies. There had been no over dramatic concern when the other had been wounded, or long conversations that only ended when the sun rose. The Dragonborn was mostly silent through the fortnight, thinking how she could use Erik to her full advantage.

She had pulled the Amulet of Mara out of her bag and placed it around her neck before leaving her room at the inn that morning and leaving Riften for the road again. It took him a while, unsurprisingly, before he finally noticed it.

'Is that the Amulet of Mara you wear?' He had asked, curiously taking a closer look at it.

'Are you interested?' The Dragonborn had asked. The way she had asked had been rather demanding, as if she was impatient about to selling a sword to him instead of her hand.

'I was just curious,' he had replied.

It was no rejection. She was simply being ignored. It was typical of Erik. 'I think we should part ways, then.'

'Why?' Erik had asked, quite alarmed by her sudden dismissal. He looked like a puppy that had been shouted at as he looked at her with his innocent eyes.

'I have no more use for you.'

Erik had been hurt and confused, but couldn't say he had expected to travel with her forever. He had enjoyed travelling with her and had gained a lot of skills and had learnt many things. He was experienced enough to go on alone, but the Dragonborn's dismissal was still painful for him.

'If you need me, you know where to find me,' he had said, forcing a grin. With a heavy sigh, the Dragonborn had shrugged and turned to walk in the opposite direction, leaving Erik standing alone on the stone path.

Perhaps, her slight interest in Erik was what caused her to marry Onmund. They both had that naïve quality about them. Whilst it was irritating at such a large level, as was the case with Fastred, being unaware of Skyrim's troubles amused the Dragonborn. She had seen many things nobody should have seen, and knowing someone who knew nothing about such traumas calmed her slightly.

But it had been five years since she had dismissed Erik, and the last she had seen of him. She had no idea what he would look like, if he'd found a better wife and had children, or if he was even there at all. If Fastred wasn't of any concern, she'd walk right past the inn and onward to Whiterun without a backward glance.

But Fastred needed to rest in the inn, and that forced the Dragonborn to leave Shadowmere to wander the small town upon their arrival and walk up the wooden steps toward the front door. As she opened the door and indicted to Fastred to enter first, she noted how exhausted she looked, despite only being on the road for a few hours since the day before.

She heard Fastred sigh in relief as she stepped in from the cold and toward a large stone fireplace. The room smelled smoky, but the warmth was too relaxing for anybody to care. Fastred lingered around the fire for a moment before throwing herself into a chair beside the fire. Her feet lifted onto their heels on the stone ground and her eyes closed as she relaxed.

The Dragonborn walked toward the counter. She hadn't seen Erik yet, and was glad for it. She preferred to be in a room full of strangers, where she could keep herself to herself. That was getting more difficult by the day, though, as she travelled around Skyrim.

'I'd like to rent two rooms, please,' the Dragonborn started, and reached into her pocket for twenty gold coins.

Fastred had woken up at this and had rushed over from the fire. Her feet had been hurting, but not as she raced across the room.

'Just the one room!' She squeaked nervously. She expected the Dragonborn to cast her a weary glance with an eyebrow raised, but her head was lowered, as though she was resigned to a task she didn't appreciate.

The owner of the inn, Mralki, looked back to the Dragonborn for confirmation. She merely nodded. He took ten septims from her and moved from behind the bar to show them their room.

The Dragonborn wasn't as irritated when she realised there were two beds in the large room. When Fastred had demanded a single room, she had resigned herself to sleeping in a chair, allowing Fastred the bed. That was no longer necessary.

She took off her dragonbone gauntlets and threw them down onto the bed, along with her sword. She looked at her injured hands and pulled down the bandage of the left hand, examining the wound. It hadn't changed much, and still hindered full movement slightly. Fastred removed a small bag from her belt and placed it down onto the table carefully, making sure not to touch the tankard and golden coins taking up most of the room on it. She went to smile to the Dragonborn, who was already on her way out of the room.

But she hadn't had chance to walk through the doorway when a young, red-headed man ran up to her, beaming. He went to take her hands in his, but thought better of it. It had been five years, but he hadn't forgotten to keep his distance.

'You're back!' He cried, grinning widely. He looked no different from the day she first met him. He still had that childish smile on his face. 'It's been too quiet while you've been away.'

With her hands clasped nervously behind her back, Fastred wandered over to the Dragonborn and her seemingly old friend. 'Hello,' she said, nodding politely.

'Fastred,' the Dragonborn said, taking a step back to introduce them. 'This is Erik.' Turning back to Erik, she said, 'I am escorting Fastred back to Ivarstead.'

They seemed quite happy to meet each other, and as they shook each other's hands, the Dragonborn slipped past and ordered a wine from Mralki. She wasn't in the mood to be dealing with both Erik and Fastred at the same time. Both of them acted younger than they were, and it irritated the Dragonborn to no end.

Noticing that Fastred had realised where she had gone and raced back up to her, the Dragonborn lifted three coins up and motioned for Mralki to pass her another drink. 'A bottle of water.'

'Hey!' Fastred protested indignantly. 'I would like a bottle of _mead_, if you please.'

Not even bothering to resist, the Dragonborn shrugged and placed the coins, and a few extra, down onto the counter. 'Bring something hot to eat, too.'

The Dragonborn moved from the stool and walked over to the other side of the room to sit down on a table bench. She opened her bottle of wine and took a long swig from it, relishing the alcoholic kick it had. Realising she had left, Fastred jumped down from the bar stool and went to join her at the table.

Erik was sat in his usual chair by the fire. The Dragonborn had often wondered why he sat there so often. Was he waiting for another adventurer to come through the door and ask for his company? Was he waiting for another dragon resurrection so he could become the hero of his little village? Or was he simply mulling over his life, thinking over what he had achieved and plucking up his courage to leave on his own and fight for himself?

The Dragonborn had no intention of asking him to follow her again. She had grown tired of his company, or any company at all, come to think of it. Dealing with Fastred was becoming harder by the minute, and she was looking forward to the day when she would drop her back off in Ivarstead and continue alone, with only Meeko and Shadowmere for company.

To her annoyance, Fastred seemed to find Erik quite fascinating. Although the Dragonborn assumed it was because the two were as immature as each other and were quite a match, that was not the case. Fastred was eager to know more about the Dragonborn, and a man that had spent a fortnight by her side must have some good stories to tell. The Dragonborn continued to drink from her wine as Erik and Fastred sat beside the fire, laughing over rather uninteresting stories.

'I was quite a bad companion at the time,' Erik laughed, blushing slightly. 'I remember once, she was hidden away at the back of a dungeon room. I had no idea where she'd gone, until I felt an arrow pierce my shoulder!'

He turned in his chair slightly to show off an old scar. That had happened when he had stepped forward in front of her aim, and she had let the arrow go into his shoulder. A partial accident, but no doubt a decent lesson for him, she had thought.

'I was so angry, I nearly swung my sword at her,' Erik said, rubbing his arm nervously at the memory. 'But after killing the bandits, she came over and healed me up to perfection again.'

Erik told the story with such fondness. The memory held no such quality for the Dragonborn, who was draining the last few drops from her wine. She had been just as angry when Erik had turned on her, with his sword lifted. What did he really expect to do? Kill her? It was a laughable thought.

Mralki interrupted the story and invited Fastred from move away from Erik, much to the Dragonborn's delight, and sit at a table to eat her stew. Mralki offered a bowl of hot stew to the Dragonborn, who shook her head and lifted the wine bottle up to order more.

Fastred shot up from her chair and moved over to sit beside the Dragonborn at the table bench to eat her stew. Erik, not wanting to move closer to her and the Dragonborn, decided to stay put in his chair and left them alone. The Dragonborn relished in the silence.

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a small slice of cooked beef. She had a healthy stash for Meeko, who, when he heard the familiar rustle of parchment as she unwrapped it for him, ran over and caught it his mouth as she threw it for him.

Fastred ate her stew quite quickly. She hadn't realised how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten a good breakfast, although she had made the Dragonborn eat it with her. How could she not be as hungry as she was? Not to mention, her breakfast was too plain to enjoy and wasn't even that filling. It was hardly a breakfast, but the best Fastred could make with what she had on hand.

Now, she was fully enjoying her stew. She had assumed that the Dragonborn had ordered it for herself, and again pondered over what kind of person the Dragonborn was. She seemed so cold toward Erik, even though he seemed like a very genuine, kind person. And she had dismissed them both quite quickly by sitting on her own at the table, but had ordered food for her to eat, without so much as a demand for payment. What was her motive?

The Dragonborn, on the other hand, was merely enjoying sitting beside the fire with a fresh bottle of wine in her hand. She often found inns to be quiet, peaceful places to spend the evening, but she was unable to enjoy that luxury in Rorikstead.

She was disturbed from her thoughts when she heard a wooden spoon fall onto the table. She turned to face Fastred, who had cleaned her bowl of stew and was falling asleep at the table. As she turned, the sleeping Fastred lost her balance in her unconsciousness and fall against the Dragonborn's heavily armoured chest. How she didn't wake up from hitting into it, she didn't knew. She must have been exhausted -

The Dragonborn's expression darkened. Was she trying to get rid of Fastred too quickly, until they strived to get to Ivarstead for the next day when Fastred's feet would be bleeding from the journey? Maybe she should take it easy. It might be hard to deal with Fastred for a few days longer, but she had to get her back in one piece, or she wouldn't be paid.

Carefully moving off the end of the bench, the Dragonborn moved slowly as to not wake Fastred. She then lifted her from the bench and lifted her up, holding her in her arms. How she was still asleep was beyond the Dragonborn. She moved past the fire and back toward their room and placed her in the bed furthest from the door.

Tucking the cloth blanket around her, she then turned to see that Meeko had followed her in, wondering what she was doing. She snapped her fingers at him and pointed at Fastred. With a happy jump, Meeko ran forward and made himself comfortable beside Fastred's bed, keeping watch. The Dragonborn moved to her own bed and picked up her gauntlets and sword. She gave Meeko one last look before leaving the inn.

Fastred woke with a start. How long had she been sleeping for? _When_ did she fall asleep? She couldn't remember doing so. She certainly couldn't remember getting into bed. But here she was, in her room, with the Dragonborn's loyal dog by her side on the stone floor.

But where was the Dragonborn? Had she run away and left Fastred to walk to Ivarstead alone? No, she had left Meeko here, and she wouldn't have left without him, would she? What if she had a special signal that told Meeko it was time to run when she had gotten as far away as she could?

How would that even work? Fastred wondered. She sleepily sat up in her bed and brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The room was dark. She must have been sleeping for hours. No wonder the Dragonborn left.

She could hear the beginnings of a storm as rain hit the thatched roof. There was a low rumbling far off in the distance that promised thunder. She was grateful that she was no longer camping out in the woods.

A bright flash of light illuminated the room for a split second and Fastred jumped. The rain began to hammer down harder, and Fastred considered leaving the room to see if the Dragonborn had merely ordered another drink at the bar.

She froze when she heard the inn door open. Rain bounced on the wooden porch and the wind slammed the door shut so hard, Fastred though the whole inn would collapse. She heard many footsteps outside, one of which seemed to belong to Erik.

'Did you have a good adventure?' He asked. There was a hint of sadness in his voice, as though he longed for it himself.

The guest took a while to answer. 'I cleared the redoubt out.'

'Were you able to handle it alone?' Erik asked, hinting at his dismay at not being invited to help.

'They were unable to see me,' the Dragonborn replied curtly. Her sharp tone reminded Erik of his failure to keep hidden during sneak attacks.

That was all she said. She began to make her way back to her room and Fastred, not sure she wanted her to know she was awake, dove under the covers and turned her back toward the door, pretending she was asleep.

The Dragonborn entered the room and closed the door quietly behind her. Fastred could hear Meeko move from beside her bed to greet his owner. The Dragonborn removed her weapons and bone armour, leaving her leather and fur undergarments on. She carefully removed her crown and placed it down on the dresser, where it light up the dark wood like a lamp. Stroking Meeko's head with her bandaged hand, she climbed into bed and moved her hands behind her head.

She didn't have much intention on sleeping. She was too light a sleeper to doze through a storm. She could never sleep much after a killing spree anyway. It wasn't guilt that kept her awake: she made a hobby of killing bandits and Forsworn, and would be glad when the world was rid of them. If she were to lie down to sleep after a kill, she would think back on her life, who she was, what she was capable of and what she had done and her history and memories never failed to haunt her. She wasn't ashamed of who she was or what she did for a living, but she wasn't exactly used to it yet.

If it weren't for the storm, she'd still be outside, occupying her mind. Anything was better than letting her thoughts wander whilst she lay in bed. With a soft sigh, she lifted her hands up in front of her and conjured a small ball of flame. In battle, she would throw this at an opponent to burn them alive, but for now, it hovered in her palm and warmed her hands. It singed the bandages, giving off a slight burning smell, but it allowed her to concentrate on something other than herself.

There was another flash of light and a loud crack of lightning. The ball of flame in the Dragonborn's hands vanished as she heard Fastred jump. Was she awake? The Dragonborn sat up slightly to examine her, but before she had chance to see if she was awake or not, there was a low rumbling of thunder. Fastred bolted upright in her bed, obviously scared.

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes and lay back down in her bed. She turned to face the wall, her back to Fastred. How childish could a person get? Being afraid of a storm, of all things. It was embarrassing.

Fastred hadn't noticed that the Dragonborn had seen her sit up. She looked to her right to see the woman facing the wall, her dog already asleep beside her, completely ignoring the storm. She thought about this for a moment, as all the dogs in Ivarstead always lost it during a storm, until there was another crack of lightning. Too frightened to remain where she was, she shot up from her bed and raced over to the Dragonborn's.

The Dragonborn was too shocked to move. Never had she experienced such a thing, and she was unsure what to do. With Fastred being a mere little girl, she couldn't wield her dagger and threaten her to back off. She wondered if she might cry if she ordered her back to her own bed. But just as she was about to open her mouth to suggest something better, she felt Fastred's hands clutch at the back of her leather tunic.

_'I'm not scared of the storm. It's just cold on my own.'_

The Dragonborn cursed herself for thinking of her family again. Her older sister had been frightened of the storms. The Dragonborn was two years younger than her older sister, who had been six at the time. Even being so young as she was, her memory didn't fail her.

_'You're the oldest, you shouldn't be scared.'_

_'You're so heartless. You wouldn't understand.'_

The Dragonborn gritted her teeth at the memory. When she had been told about the prophecy and what ran through her veins, she felt somewhat relieved that she had an answer as to why she was so different from the rest of her family. The dragon inside her had never been sleeping. It had always been awake.

She decided to leave Fastred be. She decided that, when morning would finally arrive, she would teach Fastred how to fully use a decent weapon, so that when the next storm to come, Fastred would be able to laugh in its face.


End file.
